


Hate Fuck

by WiltingGirl



Category: IDubbbzTV - Fandom
Genre: Consensual Abuse, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiltingGirl/pseuds/WiltingGirl
Summary: You piss Ian off on purpose, knowing that it always leads to some good hate sex





	Hate Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> Don't. even. ask. okay
> 
> okay?
> 
> okay cool cool

Ian grabs your wrist, catching you off guard as he drags you, painfully, into the dark bedroom. Fear stabs in your abdomen as your spine hits the wall, but Ian’s hand around your throat erases all of your negative emotions. You whimper, staring at the visible veins popping out of his arm from the strain of restricting your breath. You’re wishing that this didn’t turn you on, but it does. A little too much. That’s why you spent all day annoying him in the first place.

 Your eyes are on Ian’s free hand, the one that’s not making you light headed, as he tries his best to undo his belt. He makes it look effortless. Your eyes trail the movement, wondering if he’ll throw it to the floor or use it on you. Ian’s eyes catch yours, just when he’s winding the leather up in his fist to get a good grip, and he smiles coldly.

 “Nah, you’d like that too much, wouldn’t you?”

 You cast your eyes to the side, ashamed. You hear Ian’s belt hit the floor, the buckle hitting some nearby object instead of your face. You can feel his eyes on you; it’s silent. He’s contemplating what to do.

 “Turn around,” Ian finally says, sending chills down your still-aching spine.

 You do as he asks, willing to take whatever he gives you.

 “Hands behind your back, wrists together,” his voice sounds a little further away, like he’s across the room. You hear Ian rummaging through some things, knocking a few things over and cursing impatiently.

 You wait, staring at the wall in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat when a strong hand grabs your wrists to make sure they’re together tight enough. You feel something being wrapped around them. It feels like a thin strip of plastic. A zip tie?

 “Ian, is that a-?”

 “Shut. the. fuck. _up_ ,” Ian hisses through his teeth, emphasizing ‘up’ as he slides the zip tie so that it’s secured far too tightly around your wrists.

 You moan pitifully at the pain, only enjoying it because of the man it’s coming from. You’re still confused though; Ian usually wasn’t one to bind you. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes asking a silent _‘what the hell?’_

 Ian pulls his shirt off, throwing it down to join his belt. “You mauled my back last time, you fucking bitch.” His fingers dig into your bruised shoulders, turning you around to face his direction and he kneels down to undo your jeans. “Guess I’ll have to _force_ you to be a good girl.”

 Usually, Ian saying something like that would make you roll your eyes. Laugh at him. But when he’s angry, it’s enough to make you wet. You step out of your jeans and kick them away.

 Ian steps forward, dipping down to suck at your neck where the previous marks are fading. He always makes such huge, ugly red marks. You try to reach up to grab onto his hair by instinct, but your wrist stings as you forget about the sharp plastic digging into the sensitive skin.

 Your panties are soaking wet by now, you shift your hips in discomfort. Ian, always one to catch even the slightest action, stops his previous affair with your neck to prod at your panties with his fingers.

 “Fuck, that was fast.” Ian laughs, almost sounding impressed. But not with you, with himself.

 He pulls his hand away from you in favor of unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them down, along with his boxers, just enough to expose his cock. He reaches forward and slips your panties off.

 Ian stares you down. “How do you want it, princess?”

 You’re too turned on to pick a position. You try your best, but you don’t answer in time, so Ian answers for you.

 "Against the wall? Excellent choice.” He smirks at you, looking condescending and far too attractive at the same time.

 Ian grabs you by the hips, lifting you up and you wrap your thighs around his waist so you don’t fall. Your skin feels heated once you notice that his cock is resting against your abdomen.

 “Oh…” Ian stares down. “I guess you’ll need your hands for this, huh?”

 You nod, partially because you want the use of your hands back, but the main reason being that you’re going to need to hold onto his shoulders for this.

 You’re still wrapped around Ian when he turns around, one hand on your hip and the other on your lower back so that he doesn’t drop you. You wish that you could hold onto him; you don’t exactly trust Ian’s strength. You don’t say that though; you don’t feel like being slapped in the mouth right now. Maybe later.

 Ian grabs a knife off of the dresser, sitting you on top of it so he can use his hands. He puts the knife behind you, blindly feeling for the zip tie with the blade.

 “Careful, don’t flinch,” Ian instructs as if he’s really concerned about you getting cut.

 Ian’s messy fumbling causes the blade to nick your arm. You lurch forward, caught off guard. You hear Ian laugh and you scowl at the floor, finally feeling the tie being cut. _Fucker, he did that on purpose_ , you think to yourself.

 You rub at one of your wrists, noticing the purple-ish red ring around it. You don’t have time to inspect the damage for long, because you’re pulled around Ian once more as he leads you back against the wall.

 Ian lifts your hips just enough to give him room to slip the tip of his cock inside of you. You’re so wet that when he thrusts forward, there’s no issue filling you up completely in one motion. You moan, your fingernails digging into Ian’s shoulders. Wet or not, all of his cock at once is a bit too much for you.

 Ian puts his hand over yours, crushing your fingers together so that you’re no longer scratching him. “Don’t start that shit. I know your cunt can take it.”

 He steadies himself with one hand on your hip and the other against the wall, right next to your head. Ian starts a brutal pace, just as you expected. You wrap both your arms and legs around him equally as tight, doing your best with how much you’re shivering from the stimulation deep inside of you.

 Ian slams his hips against yours, stopping the rhythm to grind against you, making his cock grind against that sweet spot inside of you. Squirming from overstimulation, you attempt to pull away, but he won’t let you.

 “Come on princess, make some pretty noises for me,” Ian moans under his breath, grinding his cock inside of you even harder.

 You moan, the sound almost getting caught in your throat. You’re basically gushing around his cock by now. Knowing what the man wants, you grind your hips with him, instantly regretting it when you can’t control the high pitched sounds spilling out of your mouth.  

 Ian laughs, but it’s a breathy variant; not enough effort behind it to sound mocking. You’re not the only one that’s mind-numbingly horny. He pulls out, his cock glistening with the mixture of his precum and your wetness, and goes back to pounding you against the wall.

 Your eyes roll back, trying to drown out your own constant moans by focusing on the wet, slapping sound and Ian’s low groans. You tighten around him.

 Ian smirks through gritted teeth. “Come on, cum on my cock. Your slutty cunt can’t take much more.” He’s thrusting harder, trying to get you to feel it even more, and both of your hipbones will definitely pay the consequences in the form of bruises.

 You can’t help but dig your nails into his back, you don’t care that he’ll bitch about it later. He always pulls out the dirty talk when he’s close since he can’t stand cumming before you do. You’re no quitter though, so you try your best to hold back.

 Ian is getting frustrated, so he moves his hand from the wall to wrap it around your throat. “Ungrateful little cunt, I told you to fucking cum!”

 He’s yelling at you now, and as fucked up as it is, you can’t help that that’s what pushes you over the edge. You throw your head back against the wall, your pussy tightening around him to try and milk Ian’s cock along with you. You cum while chanting repeated _‘oh fuck’_ s with Ian’s name sprinkled in between them. With that, he’s not too far behind you, holding your hips against his as tight as possible to make sure that every drop of cum stays inside of you.

You both ride out your orgasms, grinding weakly against each other until you both calm down.

Ian, no longer pissed off, moves you over to the bed to lightly drop you down on the plush surface. You stare up at him, still taking in deep breaths as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants.

 Ian wipes the sweat off of his forehead, letting out a stupid “whew” noise. Eventually, he stares back at you awkwardly.

 “Well, that was fucking gay.”

 You roll your eyes and throw a pillow at him.


End file.
